


Poise and Pudding

by MagicQuill42



Series: CinderPat Universe [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-03 22:43:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17292800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicQuill42/pseuds/MagicQuill42
Summary: If the king was intimidating from afar, it was nothing compared to meeting him in person. Much less as an in-law.





	Poise and Pudding

**Author's Note:**

> Wanna start off by saying this is NOT the sequel. That’s still being written. I just watched Cinderella II and got inspired. So please enjoy this little siplet of life in the palace.

If Patton was being honest, he was incredibly nervous.

He chewed on his lip, messing with the fold of his suit for what must have been the thousandth time. It was silk, blue and smooth, edged with lace ruffles that bordered on tacky, but altogether looked sweet and classy. 

In other words, it was the fanciest thing Patton had ever worn, and it was far, far to formal an outfit to be worn by him.

He swallowed hard. Fancy functions required fancy clothes, regardless of how not-fancy the person in them was. 

And what occasion was fancier than a formal meeting with the king?   
His father in law. 

Oh dear. 

Patton rested his hands against the the dresser, feeling a bit like he might throw up. He was too common for this. He didn’t know what Roman was thinking, bringing him into this life. He was far better suited for kitchens and fireplaces, dusting shelves and mopping floors. He didn’t know the first thing about which fork would go where or how to run a kingdom. The king was going to pick up on that and, while he’d probably never throw Patton out, he’d burn with a silent hatred and make them both miserable. 

Yup. Patton was definitely going to throw up. 

Dimly he heard the door open and before he knew it, two strong arms were wrapped around his waist. 

“Hey, what’s wrong, love?” Roman asked softly. 

“I can’t do this.” Patton whispered. “He’s going to hate me.”

Roman nuzzled his hair gently. 

“He won’t hate you, darling,” he said. “My father may have high standards but the only one he’s ever hated was me.”

Patton frowned. “I’m sure he doesn’t hate you, Ro. Emile says you two don’t get along, but I know he doesn’t hate you.”

Roman chuckled, the sound reverberating pleasantly through Patton’s chest.“Well there you go, then. All you have to do is agree with him more than I do and you’ll be golden! And seeing as that is the easiest thing in the world, you’re all set.”

He twirled Patton around so that their eyes met. Patton looked deeply into those brown irises, wishing he could stay there and get lost forever.

“I’ll be right by your side the whole time, love,” Roman whispered. “I swore to protect you and I will uphold that vow. Even against my own father.”

Patton smiled and cupped Roman’s face between his hands. 

“I know. I just hate the thought of something I do having repercussions for you. I’m not- I don’t know this life. I’m not composed or elegant enough for it. I don’t know what I’m doing here.” He admitted, laughing nervously. 

Roman grasped one of his hands and kissed its palm, tugging Patton closer.  
“You’re plenty elegant. And who cares about composure?” He planted another kiss on Patton’s forehead. “I don’t care what anyone else thinks of you. I adore you, and that’s all that matters.” 

Roman flushed suddenly. “Um, well- I mean that we love each other. That’s what counts. Obviously if you felt differently that would matter too, but- um-“

Patton giggled and kissed Roman, right on the lips. Roman hummed happily and Patton felt him melt into the kiss. When they pulled away, the Prince looked almost starstruck and Patton thought his heart might burst out of his chest at the realization that that face was directed at and because of him. 

“I love you too, Ro.” Patton said. 

“Good,” Roman said softly. “I’m glad. I love you too.”

Patton giggled. “And I love you, too.”

Roman blinked. “Oh. We’ve- uh… we’ve already said that haven’t we?”

Patton nodded, amused. 

Roman grinned sheepishly. “Well, who cares? I love you and I don’t care how many times I say it! I don’t care who knows! I love you, I love you, I love you!”  
He grabbed Patton’s waist and started twirling him around the room in a dizzy dance, chanting “I love you” over and over until Patton was a blushy mess. 

“Okay, okay!” He exclaimed, face red. “I love you too, but if we don’t go we’ll be late!”

Roman seemed to consider this, then dipped Patton, low and smooth. And kissed him again. Patton momentarily lost his train of thought, distracted by the feeling of satin-soft lips on his. 

Roman pulled away with a small smirk. “Alright, fine. I just wanted to be sure you knew.”

“Um- yeah.” Patton nodded. “Right.”

Roman righted them both and twined his arm through Patton’s. 

“Are you ready?”

Patton chewed on his lip again before answering. 

“I’m not sure if I’ll ever really be ready,” he admitted. “But I’m readier than I was three minutes ago.”

“Good.” Roman pecked his cheek. “Then lets go.”

*** 

One thing that had surprised Patton about castle life was how cold it was. Not just the lack of heat but the fact that outside a handful of servants, no one acknowledged anyone else more than they had to. It seemed lonely and frigid, but it did mean they made good time getting from Patton and Roman’s suite to the dining hall. It didn’t seem like a fair price to pay, but Patton was grateful for the small miracle. 

Shortened though the journey was, Patton was almost shaking by the time they reached the hall. Thankfully, Roman noticed and squeezed his arm gently. He even went so far as to give him another quick peck on the cheek before they entered the room itself. It helped. Somewhat. 

Nothing could have prepared him for the hall itself. It was intimidatingly long, with an impossibility long table draped in fine cloth. Sitting at the head, gray-bearded and regal, was the king. 

Roman’s father, Patton thought. 

He was going to be sick. 

The two of them crossed to the end of the table, Patton scarcely able to stop looking at the splendor around him. Eventually they stopped and Roman cleared his throat. 

Patton’s gaze snapped to the king and he started trembling again. He bowed shakily. 

“Your highness.”

When he rose again, he met the kings eyes, sharp and hard as flint. He restrained a flinch, memories of eyes even colder rising to he surface. He lowered his eyes, the swirling carpet suddenly seeming very intriguing. 

“So,” the king said slowly. “You are the man my son has chosen, are you?”

Patton swallowed thickly. “Yes sir.”

The king regarded him before nodding to the chairs on either side of him. Roman reluctantly crossed to sit on his father’s right, leaving Patton to lower himself into the seat on the left. 

“You seem a pretty thing, at least.” The king said, seemingly more to himself than to Patton. “My son has good taste.”

Patton wasn’t entirely sure if that was a compliment, especially not one directed at him, but he smile anyway. 

“Thank you, highness.”

The king nodded, letting silence fall over the table. A server who’s name Patton had yet to learn placed a salad in front of each of them. Patton smiled gratefully. 

“Thank you.” 

The server stiffened, nodded once, then shuffled out of the room, a bit quicker than he’d come in. Patton’s brows furrowed and he looked over at Roman. He was wincing a little, and shrugged at Patton helplessly. Patton frowned and looked down at his salad. 

Were you not supposed to thank the staff here, either? He’d never been thanked for serving things but he had always thought that was just Damon and Remy being Damon and Remy. Was it a universal thing after all? 

Guilt clenched in his stomach at the thought. If it was and he’d been upset over it then… well he felt a bit sorry about that. No one deserved someone being angry at them for something that was perfectly natural. 

Roman cleared his throat gently and Patton looked up at him. Roman subtlety pointed with his pinky at where his fork had been. Patton pauses before the meaning clicked. 

He picked up the fork Roman had been gesturing at, fighting a blush at the thought of how hopeless he must have looked. 

“So,” the king said suddenly. “What is it you did before coming here? Please tell me my son hasn’t chosen to marry a farmer.”

Patton laughed awkwardly. “No sire, I’m not a farmer. I’m…”

He faltered. What was he? Officially? An indentured servant? That sounded about right but… he didn’t want to tell the king he’d basically been a slave when he seemed so insulted by “farmer.” 

“Um. I was a housekeeper, sire.” He finally settled on. 

The king raised an eyebrow. “You don’t sound sure.”

Patton flushed. “It was a bit of a complicated situation, your highness. But I feel housekeeper best encompasses my past duties.”

The king nodded once. “So. You know how to clean, then?”

Patton nodded. “And how to cook.”

The king gave him a strange look. “Cook? That is not one of a housekeeper’s duties.”

Patton swallowed nervously and looked to Roman in a panic. 

“He said it was a complex situation, Father.” Roman said. “Besides, nearly everyone can cook to some degree. Even if it’s just boiling potatoes.”

Roman laughed harder at that than the joke deserved, but it helped. Patton giggled a little, nerves settling. The king did not laugh. 

Eventually the laughter died down and they finished their salads, which were quickly replaced by some kind of braised meat Patton had never seen before. It tasted good though. Maybe he could sneak downstairs and snag the recipe. Try it out himself and-

“I’m glad you’ve done some honest work, at least.” The king said. “You my be a good influence on my son. He’s never worked a day in his life, he needs someone who is familiar with elbow grease by his side.”

Patton blinked. Roman… Roman worked very hard from what he could tell. Every other hour he’d been whisked away from Patton’s side to attend to this law or that peace treaty. And when he hadn’t been doing that he’d been pouring his energy into reversing the Fae Act, which Patton had soon learned was no easy task. He’d found Roman slumped against his desk on a number of occasions, passed out from exhaustion. 

He glanced at Roman, looking for some sign of how he was to reply. Roman’s eyes were on his food, posture stiff and face hard.   
Something stirred in Patton’s chest at the sight. 

“Roman works very hard,” he said quietly. 

The gentle clinking of silver against China stopped. Patton looked down at his own food, pretending he was talking to it instead of a man who could have him hung on a whim. 

“Sure, it may not be menial labor but he works almost nonstop to be the best ruler he can. I don’t think any work Roman’s done should be discounted because it took place in his mind, at a desk, rather than with a sponge.”

The table was silent, Patton the only one eating. And that was out of pure fear that they might think he had something else to say. Eventually, the king huffed. 

“It would seem you aren’t the quiet cottage mouse I took you for after all,” he said. “I will endeavor to remember that in the future.”

Patton smiles politely, the action feeling a bit stretched out and wobbly, but it seemed to accomplish its mission and the three returned to their meal.   
Thankfully, after that the conversation shifted focus. Roman and the king started talking “matters of state” (whatever that meant), and Patton was left to his thoughts for a while. 

Occasionally the king would ask what his take on a situation was, and Patton did his best to give an honest answer that, with his limited understanding, would be the most beneficial. In the instances where he zoned out completely he took Roman’s side, not because Roman was inherently noble, though Patton felt he was, but because he would mouth key words to Patton until his father’s focused shifted back. 

At dessert, Patton was in the middle of reflecting on how grateful he was to have Roman when the king asked him something. 

He flushed. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

“Your family,” the king said, sounding impatient. “I just realized I never asked. Have I heard of them?”

Patton blinked, a cold hand clamping over his heart. 

“Um. You might have, sir.” He said carefully. “My mother was Lady Kinder, though since her death I have been in service to my step-family, the Astooks.”   
He saw Roman’s lip curl at the mention of them and smiled shakily at him. He understood the reaction. Logan was his only family among the Astooks in his heart. But there was no denying that, legally, on paper, Damon was a father to him in a way. 

The king hummed thoughtfully. “Damon Astook?”

“Yes sire.” 

“I never cared for him,” the king said bluntly. “Always felt as if he was lying to me, somehow. He seems a slimy sort of fellow.”

Patton’s lip twitched. “He definitely can be, sire. I think there is good in him, deep down. But I don’t think he’s willing to use it.”

The king regarded him. “You will not defend your stepfather?”

Patton shrugged helplessly. “He’s not a defendable man.”

The king nodded slowly. “I see. And what if your mother?”

Patton softened. “She was a wonderful woman. She raised me lovingly, but was sadly taken before her time.”

The king sniffed. “Esmeralda was much the same. Though I do not know how she was with children, she had this way of treating everyone as equals, no matter how beneath her they truly were.” He looked at Patton, a strange light in his eyes. “You remind me of her, I think.”

“Um. Thank you, sire.”

He looked at Roman, not having the faintest clue who Esmeralda was. Roman lifted a hand to his chin, thumb resting on it and the rest splayed in front of it. 

“Mother.” He signed. 

Mother? But Patton’s mother wasn’t named Esmeralda. Her name was Catherine. What was Roman trying to- oh. Roman’s mother. Not his. Queen Esmeralda, graceful and kindhearted, the jewel of the kingdom. Died in childbirth a year before Patton was born. 

That mother. 

Patton swallowed hard. He’d just been compared to the dead wife of the ruler of their nation. What did one say after that? How were you supposed to react? Did he do a good job of it? Could he get a do over now that he knew?   
The king stood before he could panic anymore, dropping his napkin into the now-empty pudding bowl. 

“I believe I shall retire for the evening.” He declared. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Sir Kinder. No doubt you will aid my son well in his future.”  
Patton awkwardly bowed his head. “I hope so, your highness.”

The king nodded sharply and left the room, shuffling tiredly on what Patton assumed were aching bones. 

The moment the door was closed Roman was around the table, throwing his arms around Patton. 

“You did so well!” He gushed. “I’ve never seen my father smile that softly before!”

Patton blinked in bewilderment. He was almost certain he’d messed up somehow. He’d talked back to the king about his own son and he hadn’t known which spoon he was supposed to use for the pudding. It had to be painfully obvious to everyone that he was low-born and didn’t belong here. That he didn’t know what he was doing. It was certainly glaringly obvious to him. 

His uncertainty must have shown because Roman tenderly took his hands and pressed gentle kisses to his knuckles. 

“You did amazing, darling, I mean it.” He said gently. “He may not adore you as much as I do but that’s an impossible standard anyway.”

Patton giggled a little, though he was still reeling from the night’s events. 

“I talked back to the king,” he said faintly. “I told him off. Oh my stars…”

Roman chuckled. “If that was you telling someone off I’d love to see what happens when you yell. Patton, I assure you, you were the picture of politeness all night, even when rushing to my defense. And my father is an interesting man with complex standards. The fact that you scarcely hesitated in defending me tells him you’re loyal and kind, but the fact that you don’t find Damon defendable shows him you aren’t naïve.”

Roman laughed breathlessly. “He compared you to my mother! Do you know how high a compliment it is for him to compare you to her good traits?”

It was a rhetorical question but Patton shook his head anyway. 

“Incredibly high!” Roman assured him. “Patton, darling, you did stupendously.”

Patton blinked at him again before staring down at their linked hands. 

“I don’t think I like him very much,” he said, voice coming out small and feeble. “I don’t like the way he looks at me and the way he talks about you.”

“Goodness gracious, who does?” Roman said, voice and demeanor softening. “I think Emile would have adopted me himself if it weren’t against every possible regulation. Luckily, you aren’t required to like him. After this, the two of you should have minimal one on one contact. Okay?”

Patton gave him a small smile. “Okay.”

Roman smirked playfully. “And besides, if you ever do, I have no doubt you’ll be able to keep him in check.”

Patton flushed and buried his face in his hands. “I told off the king!”


End file.
